


Old Enough to Know Better

by orphan_account



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-07
Updated: 2009-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jayne knows he can’t afford to piss off the boss-lady’s son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Enough to Know Better

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Mal and Jayne know each other as teenagers.

  
Jayne knows he can’t afford to piss off the boss-lady’s son. His family’s skirting the edge as it is, what with his father drinking too much again and his sister getting caught bringing a boy from town back to the servants’ quarters.

They’re up in the loft in the south barn and Mal’s got him cornered in more ways than one. Not leaving any doubt as to what he wants. How old’s this kid anyhow? Sixteen, he’d guess, at the most. And Jayne? He’s old enough to know better, he thinks, trying not to react as Mal presses into his space, hand tight on the back of his neck and tongue slipping past his lips cock-sure.

It’s been a long day, a _really _nán yi zhì xìn long day, and Jayne takes that as his excuse to cut off thought about the ten different ways this could come back to bite him in the ass. Branding’s the worst--long hours with hardly a break, somebody always gets hurt and the smell of burning flesh sticks to everything.

Mal doesn’t smell that way though. He smells like clean sweat and his clothes are soft as Jayne runs his hands over them, soft in a way they wouldn’t be if they got washed in the machine they have in servant’s quarters.

The boy’s pushing to get right to it, but fast as he’s moving, Jayne ain’t exactly complaining. Especially since the boy brought his mouth down to suck on the hollow of his neck. Between that and Mal’s hands running over him like he owns the place, Jayne’s body is starting to react like this was his idea to begin with.

The only thing they take off is their holsters. Bare skin on hay doesn’t work, and besides, it’s not like they’re each other’s dates to the Revolucíon Dance or anything. Jayne watches keenly as Mal places his gun gently to the side. It’s beautiful, clearly imported, and Jayne longs for a closer look. His is just a work piece, same as all the hands have in case they come across rustlers.

“I’ll do you then you can do me,” Mal says, pulling away, and Jayne knows that ain’t meant charitably. They lie down and when Mal gets to it--lips and tongue on Jayne’s stiff flesh--he goes about it like he’s looking for something. Filing something away that has nothing to do with Jayne.

It’s sloppy as hell--too much spit, too much suction. Jayne wants to give him some direction, at least “watch your gorramn teeth”, but he looks down Mal, eyes screwed shut in concentration, and he knows that would never do, even if he didn’t have a mind to keep his family from being kicked off the Reynolds’ Ranch.

He thinks about the cook’s daughter for a spell, then some magazines he snuck from the shuttle port store before settling on the thought of what Ma Reynolds would think if she knew her only son was sucking one of the hand’s ji ba like his life depended on it. The thought makes him feel powerful, and he can’t deny the boy’s pretty mú dèng kŏushuĭ--tan and solid, not pale and slim-hipped like the boys in the magazines.

He warns Mal off the last second before he comes, pushing on his shoulders so he knows to let up. Despite everything, the boy’s got potential, or enthusiasm enough to make up for his lack of skill anyway. Kinda makes him wonder if there’s going to be a next time.

Mal doesn’t miss a beat, just lies down on the hay and looks over at him expectantly. Jayne settles between his legs, pushing cloth aside to see what there is to see. He wouldn’t be surprised if with all that concentration Mal went soft. Turns out that’s not going to be a problem though.

Jayne starts slow, but the boy’s staring at him so keen it ain’t really polite, so he decides to just go for it and slides his mouth over the boy’s ji ba as far as it’ll go. The way Mal’s raring for it, Jayne’s going to be surprised if this lasts more than a minute.

He’s not too far from wrong. Mal’s hips buck too fast, too hard, and Jayne has to hold him down to keep from gagging. Before he knows it, Mal gives a surprised kind of yelp, shoulders rising to compensate for his hips being held down, and Jayne’s spitting that bitter taste out of his mouth.

Mal’s looking down at him sort of glazed and stunned, but there isn’t time to be awkward. The boy hitches up his pants and mumbles something sort of apologetic before high-tailing it down the ladder.

The next day, Mal won’t meet his eyes. Not when they’re up at dawn together wrestling calves through the chute, not when he passes the tortillas across to the table to him at lunch. He must be watching though, else he wouldn’t know it was him that got assigned to go through the tack in the south barn after dark. When their eyes finally do meet, there’s a look in them that tells Jayne it wasn’t foolish to stash a couple saddle blankets in the loft, just in case.


End file.
